


dreams fight with machines

by thesqian



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, But its here!, F/F, Graphic Description, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Tumblr: Catradora Week 2018, Unhappy Ending, and i think im a day late with this prompt, at the end, ok this is a lil sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 00:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesqian/pseuds/thesqian
Summary: Soulmates.A peculiar and absolutely stupid idea, Catra had concluded.orin a world where your soulmate's first words to you appear on one wrist, while their last appear on the other.catradora week, day four, prompt: [soulmates] - unrequited





	dreams fight with machines

Soulmates.

A peculiar and absolutely stupid idea, Catra had concluded.

Catra didn’t believe in soulmates, despite the charred ink that covers her bunk mates’ wrists. At least she didn’t think a soulmate for her existed.

Watching the excitement bloom on the other cadets’ faces as the words slowly formed on their skin, turning to each other with surprise, confusion, embarrassment written all over their features was painful. Painful to someone who was constantly told day after day that she was unlovable, unworthy of affection, undeserving of care.

She would rather stick to her training regimens than socialize with her peers and have to watch one more little girl streak from the room, tears marring her face because she didn’t like her soulmate or she wanted some other boy. Because of this, she became quite skilled and far more advanced than those in her squadrons. She was quickly rising to be the top cadet, despite being as young as the age of seven, going above and beyond what was required or expected of her.

But it was never enough.

Shadow Weaver, clearly disapproving of the way she could be so talented yet so disrespectful, only gave her harder and harder training sessions, keeping her up long past curfew to complete that one drill she could never perfect until she did, punishing her with brute force when she failed.

The bruises on her skin healed and faded but the bleeding wounds on her heart only deepened each day.

And finally, when that blushy blonde showed up one day, everyone—most of all, Shadow Weaver—fell at her feet. She was praised day in and day out and for what? Simply being the beautiful golden girl everyone wished to be? Even worse, she proved to be naturally skilled, immediately aceing each test and rising above everyone.

Including Catra.

Once she came out on top, Catra felt defeated, physically and mentally. Her chest heaving, a thin sheet of sweat coating her body, she stared with anger burning in her eyes at the way everyone tripped over themselves to congratulate her. Catra was bitter. In this moment, she knew she wouldn’t amount to anything, to anyone. And it was around this time, at the age of eleven, that Catra started showing up to training late, started sneaking out after lights out and coming back in the early hours of the morning only to disappear from her bed at the first break of dawn, before even more training.

An especially grueling session was awaiting her one morning she actually made the effort to show up to, one that she knew would be leaving aches and pains in her joints: sparring.

Sparring wasn’t the worst, not even a little bit. But sparring was where they really took notes on your progress, reporting them back to Lord Hordak himself. And even worse, Catra was being paired up with that blonde she hated so. Adora, was it? With a dull throb somewhere in the middle of her gut, she had a feeling this one would hurt.

And she was right.

Catra, hands shaking with exhaustion and the exhilaration of the fight, turns around her wildly as her feet are planted on the tiled floor. Her body glows pink in the sickly light, her hair sticks to her forehead from the sweat permeating off of her. 

Where had she gone?

The patter of footsteps behind her gives away the girl’s location, and Catra musters a satisfied smirk as she turns her body to the left, watching as Adora falls through the air. The force of her hitting the floor exerts a loud bang and a curse from the blonde. Catra stands above her, her breathing heavy, and prepares to give the killing blow when a force on her legs makes the smile drop from her face.

Adora’s sparring stick collides with the back of Catra’s calves from where Adora is sprawled on the ground. The brunette is sent flying backwards until her back hits the ground, her head instantly throbbing with the collision. Eyes closed, Catra clenches her sharp canines together, hoping to dull the pain. Something jabs at her chest as an obnoxious buzzing fills the air.

When Catra opens one eye first then the other, she sees Adora standing over her, the end of her stick still flush against the training armor on her chest. Her blue eyes are lit up with triumph as her breathing begins to steady into a regular rhythm. The pink and black lights fade around them into various hues of green and yellow. Several of their teammates stand in the far corner, egging on and congratulating Adora who flashes them a thankful smile. Catra’s heterochromia eyes narrow as she shoves the stick away from her with a clawed hand, and Adora’s body falters slightly.

Blue eyes now trained on the brunette, a pale hand shoots out towards her. “Hey,” Adora breathes, “You did amazing—“

Catra simply bats it away again, propping herself up on her elbows. Glaring daggers, she pushes herself up into a kneeling position, hissing, “Yeah, no thanks to you.”

Adora seemed hurt at the rejection as she pulls her hand away hesitantly and takes a few steps back. Meanwhile, Catra rises up, her tail lashing with fury. The girl ignores her aching muscles and throbbing skull and pivots on a heel. Storming away, she hears their peers begin to stumble over to Adora, hollering and shouting their praises for her. Her body tenses at the sound of it all.

And suddenly, a pinprick like feeling begins to enshroud her wrist. When it fails to cease, she raises her forearm to her face, eyes squinting to examine it. And that’s when she sees it.

Dark, inky words being scrawled onto her skin before her very eyes.

 _No, no, no,_ her mind pleads as she watches a sentence being formed. Her heart feels like it might just explode out of her chest at this rate.

Finally, the writing stops with a small spark and she swallows.

_‘hey you did amazing’_

No.

_No._

Reluctantly, Catra turns around to see blue-gray eyes staring back a few yards away. The kids around her had noticed the change in atmosphere and silenced themselves, all staring between the two girls—mostly at Catra, though.

A light blush covers Adora’s cheeks, and Catra’s gaze shifts down toward her wrist which was propped up lazily at her side. The unmistakable black writing was visible on her wrist, too, as she stares in disbelief at Catra.

Catra’s face is slack, her eyes wide, brows furrowed on her forehead. Her tail had wrapped itself self-consciously around her ankle; her ears had drooped down while her mind races with anger, betrayal, fear.

Soulmates.

Catra and Adora.

_Soulmates._

 

 

Catra was woken up early one morning, as the foot nestled underneath her slowly slipped out, creating a cold, hollow hole underneath her. She feels a force rising from the bed from the frame’s uncomfortable creaking, and when she uncoils her head from the crook of her elbow, she lifts her eyes to meet Adora’s. The teenager, in a half crawling, half walking position, widens her gray eyes as they make contact with Catra’s. A small smile graces her lips and Catra simply can’t help but return it.

“Sorry,” she whispers sincerely, shifting so that she was in a kneeling position in front of Catra. A pale hand lifts towards the brunette’s face, resting gently against her cheek.

Catra laughs and leans into the touch. “You’ve really gotta stop doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Waking me up at the ass crack of dawn like this all the time,” Catra mumbles as she turns her head deeper into the blonde’s hand.

Adora seems sheepish as she giggles and repeats, “Sorry.”

They stay like that for a long moment in silence with nothing but the whir of machinery somewhere deep inside the Fright Zone and the sounds of their fellow cadets sleeping in the beds beside them.

A clawed hand comes up to grip delicately onto the wrist near her face, holding Adora there gently. “What are you doing up so early anyway?”

Adora, who has now lowered herself to a sitting position, crosses her legs over each other. “Just wanted to get some extra training in. That’s all.”

And Catra laughs again, a sound which Adora is keen on hearing again and again. “You’re already, like, the best, Adora. You don’t need to over exert yourself.”

She shrugs her shoulders at that and replies, “It can’t hurt.” After a moment, she adds, “Plus, it’s better to get a head start on the day, anyway.”

“Mhm.” Catra is now completely concentrated on the girl’s warm hand on her cheek, the way her thumb rubs small circles in the space just below her closed eye. She pushes herself up so that she’s mimicking Adora’s position, their knees brushing against each other. Adora’s free hand entangles a few of its fingers in locks of Catra’s unkempt hair, playing with it absentmindedly while Catra thinks she just might lose her mind. Softly, she turns her face again to brush her lips against Adora’s wrist, the same wrist that held the words ‘yeah no thanks to you.’

She eyes the words with a peculiar fondness before kissing it again, relishing in the way Adora breathes a shaky sigh. Catra raises her own wrist higher while she eases the hand Adora held to her face beside it.

Two wrists–vastly different in shape and size and color, representing the girls perfectly: two people who opposed each other in every and all ways—were against each other as they silently read the words carved into them for the one thousandth time.

And Catra was the first to speak with a beaming smile. “God, I hated you,” she whispers through a chuckle, alluding to the first time the words appeared nearly five years ago.

Adora, leaning forward so that their foreheads were touching, laughs alongside her. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Adora grabs Catra’s hand beside her and intertwines their fingers, rubbing her thumb gently across calloused knuckles. Catra feels a plethora of warmth bubbling up inside her with a sigh. Slowly, she moves her body forward to a new position. Catra sits herself down slowly on to the blonde’s lap, wrapping her legs around either side of her. Her arms are swept under Adora’s, gripping at her back gently, her claws digging into pale skin with care. Her face flush against Adora’s neck, Adora could feel every breath passing over the hollow in her throat, could feel Catra’s pulsating heartbeat against her chest and neck, could hear dark, mussy fur shifting against her cheek.

The blonde wraps her own arms around the shorter girl, grappling a handful of air, and rests her chin atop her head. Catra relaxes in her touch like she had a million times before. After a moment, the girl reaches forward slightly and presses her lips to Adora’s neck.

Adora learned long ago how intoxicating Catra’s kisses were.

One could get addicted if not distributed properly.

Her breath catches in her throat at the contact, her body tensing momentarily. When Catra places a second kiss on the underside of her jawline, Adora swears she’s about to spiral into a free fall.

Catra returns her head from Adora’s body, lifting her blue and yellow eyes to gray ones that shone brightly in the dim light. The corners of her mouth twitch into a small grin before her gaze falls to lush, pink lips inches from her own. A shockingly delicate hand snakes forward to grip onto Adora’s thin, white shirt, tugging lightly.

A pout graces darker lips. “Are you sure you have to go?” Catra asks. Her voice was merely a whisper that seemed too loud in the already quiet room. Her other hand has made its way to the small of the blonde’s back, her fingers tracing up and down her skin gently.

And Adora is falling, tumbling through the air as the ground crumbles beneath her.

Before she even realizes, Adora is lunging forward, covering Catra’s mouth with her own. The girls tumble backwards onto the bed once again as Adora’s hands are placed on a small waist. When she feels Catra grin with satisfaction against her lips, there’s a new fire that erupts in her heart, burning her lungs to liquid, leaving her unable to breathe.

And they fall back into the mattress and under the sheets, Adora’s morning routine forgotten.

 

 

Adora quickly came to learn that soulmates fight with a pang in her heart.

In the seven years since the presentation of her soulmate bonding, if she had learned anything at all she’d learned this: Catra was temperamental. Uncharted territory. Knowing how she would react was nearly impossible yet sometimes so, so obvious.

Hotheaded and opinionated, disagreements were bound to happen, as much as Adora hated to admit it.

It usually happened like this: Catra, irked over something Shadow Weaver or a fellow cadet had said to her, would storm into the bunks at night. Adora, having waited for her after her own training sessions, would greet her with open arms which the brunette would shrug off. Adora would ask what was wrong, Catra would ignore her. Adora would persist and Catra would snap at her, telling her to leave it be, piss off, it’s none of your business, _just go to bed, Adora._ And Adora would be hurt and respond, begging to understand what had riled her up so. And Catra would do what she does best—run her mouth. And her mouth would run and run and run until it jumped a hurdle and cut through the finish line, blurting out some half-thought out phrase that Catra didn’t actually believe but the damage had already been done. Adora’s face would falter and Catra would stare with wide eyes and Adora would back off, turning away to lie down on her bed with her back turned towards her soulmate. Catra, disappointed in herself and unable to confront her feelings or own up to her mistakes, would flee, usually retreating to the roof where she’d stare at the stars with a sad gleam in her eye. Sometimes Catra would feel a delicate wetness coat her cheeks and wipe it away before she was willing to admit it was ever there in the first place. And usually, Adora would wake up to a warm chest pressed against her back, apologies smeared over chapped lips and electrifying worn fingertips. They’d make up and all would return to normal.

Today, however, Adora could feel something crackling in the air, and it made her stomach rumble with uneasiness.

Striding into the locker room, Adora immediately locates Catra perching atop the rusting lockers. She opens her mouth to chirp a greeting when she notices Catra’s low ears, her slumped shoulders, the way her tail lashes hard behind her. This wasn’t the Catra she knew and loved, the one who blazed with fire and ambition in her veins as if it were the blood she needed to survive. No, this was telltale something-happened-to-Catra-and-now-she’s-in-one-of-those-unpredictable-moods behavior.

So she approaches the feline carefully, resting her fingertips against the cold metal just in front of her foot. She notices and backs away slightly. Adora frowns and queries, “Catra, is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” she barks, though the glint in her eye tells Adora something entirely different.

“Are you sure?” she tries again, brushing her fingers against Catra’s which grip the edge of the lockers tightly. Again, she flinches away and reers back on Adora.

“I said I’m fine, Adora. Do you need me to spell it out for you?” She leaps off of the aging metal and lands behind the blonde, crouching on the cement floor before erecting herself.

And Adora’s lips curve downward once more. “I’m just asking. I want to make sure you’re okay,” she adds quietly.

“Well, I don’t need you to.” When she whirls on the taller girl, Catra’s eyes are cold and her words hold a sharp edge to them. “I’m not some little kid you need to babysit anymore, okay?”

“Babysit?” Adora echoes in indignation. “Catra, I’m allowed to worry about you. That doesn’t mean I think you’re weak or anything. I just-”

“Bullshit.”

Adora holds her ground, taking a daring step towards the brunette. “Catra, I’m just checking in on you. There’s nothing wrong with that. And you don’t need to get so defensive every time I do. It’s tiring, honestly.”

Catra’s tail bristles at this, and Adora realizes too little too late that it was the wrong thing to say. “Well,” she growls, “sorry I’m just such a burden to you.” She’s about to take off, launch herself into the rafters where she would retreat and disappear, run away from all her problems until they decided to work themselves out so Catra wouldn’t have to deal with the unending disappointment herself. Catra always runs.

Catra’s good at running.

A hand on her wrist stops her, holds her back with an unnerving kindness, gentility to it, but Catra refuses to turn and look.

“Catra, you are not a burden. The fact that you would even think that breaks my heart.”

 _Stop,_ Catra screams.

“I care about you. A lot, that’s why I ask if you’re okay because I want you to be okay, you deserve to be okay.”

_No, stop._

“I want to be there for you and protect you from everything.”

_You shouldn’t._

“Because, shocker, the world is full of shit and the world is gonna throw a lot of shit at us and when it really comes down to it, it’s just us. Us against the world, Catra.”

_Please, stop._

“So me caring about you and your wellbeing isn’t showing weakness, no matter how much you think that.”

_Don’t._

“It’s because I’m your soulmate and you’re mine.”

_Don’t._

“And soulmates love each other and want to be there for each other through thick and thin.”

_DON’T._

“And we, as soulmates, are—”

“Well, maybe _we’re not_!”

Catra’s words reverberate off of the cement walls so that Adora—and Catra—have to hear them over and over and over and over again. Blue-gray eyes darken and gloss over. The hand on Catra’s forearm falls, hitting her side with a soft thud. Catra makes the awful decision to turn and give the blonde a look only to be greeted with watery eyes and half parted lips, heartache written on her face as if it were in permanent ink.

Catra wants to say sorry.

“Maybe we’re not,” is what she says instead, so quiet she isn’t sure—hopes—Adora doesn’t hear her. And in an instant, she’s turning away and leaping towards the cracked rafters.

Adora blinks away the tears pricking at her eyes and resists the urge to glance down at her other, blank wrist in fear of seeing black as pitch words being carved into them.

It isn’t until later, hours later, that Adora sees Catra again.

It’s after a grueling training session that Adora’s heart was only halfway in, and after Adora had taken a cold shower due to the Fright Zone’s lack thereof reliable plumbing. She’s standing next to her bunk, facing the wall as she dresses herself, a shirt held in her hands. Her torso is naked except for the bra across her chest so the cold hand that she feels land against her hip is more alarming than it normally would have been. Icy fingertips dance along her waist, and she nearly jumps away, turning to backhand whoever had the guts to violate her in such a way when she feels a forehead press into the space between her shoulder blades. A mass of wild hair scratches her skin and a low purr rumbles against her.

“Catra,” she whispers, so quiet, Catra misses it.

The hand against her torso stretches forward to grab Adora’s wrist, pulling it down against the blonde’s thigh, holding onto her with such ferocity, it makes the air crackle. A bout a silence passes before Catra speaks.

“I’m sorry,” she rasps and fails to restrain the sob that follows.

And before the brunette knows it, she’s crying, her shoulders jerking forward in waves she couldn’t control. And then Adora is twisting around to pull her head onto her shoulder, pressing her body against Catra’s to warm her, comfort her aching bones. Catra’s arms grip around Adora, breathing in her scent, pushing her face into the shoulder she offered. The cries that rack her body don’t cease, only worsen when she hears her soulmate’s smooth voice muttering comforting nothings into her hair, telling her it’s okay, it’s okay, Catra, I don’t hate you, I could never hate you, you’re perfect. Her tears coat her face and soak Adora’s exposed, beautiful skin which she tries to apologize for through her shaky sobs but only succeeds in making Adora laugh softly as she runs her fingers through dark locks of hair, reassuring her that it’s alright.

Catra’s cries begin to exhaust her as she feels her body sinking to the ground. Adora is right there beside her, holding onto her tightly, and just the feel of those strong arms wrapped around her frame makes her even more emotional. Her breathing falters as new, fresh tears erupt from her. Her own arms grapple desperately at Adora’s back, her claws scratching lightly against porcelain skin.

Soon, the girls are kneeling against each other on the ground beside their shared bed, Adora giving feeble kisses to Catra’s forehead, cheeks, ears, every inch of her just to make her feel loved. Let her know she _is_ loved.

But Catra seems so broken, so small there in her arms, that it makes tears prick at Adora’s own eyes that she blinks away pleadingly.

And before they know it, sleep overcomes them, and they fall into a restful slumber, there on the cold, dusty floor and against the metal wall, Catra coddled up in Adora’s lap, their arms still around each other to keep the world out just for a little while longer. 

 

 

Adora is cornered. She knows that. She knew that when she came running into this hell hole at full speed, following the familiar, high pitched giggling of a certain feline that sent sparks of aching pain to shoot through her heart.

It doesn’t settle the uneasiness she feels in the pit of her stomach, however.

Another small spurt of laughter echoes off of the high rock walls, causing Adora to whip around wildly, sword in hand.

“Hey, Adora.”

With a cry, Adora wheels towards the direction of the voice, lifting her weapon to fire a beacon of blinding, blue-white light. The energy hits a section of the cave with a rumbling explosion. A small figure leaps upwards from the catastrophe and lands on a rocky ledge with perfect balance.

“Woah,” the voice calls, blue and yellow eyes watching with nonchalance. “Not even a hello? I’m disappointed.” Her gaze sweeps over towards Adora in all her inhuman glory, unnatural hair flowing behind her, toned arms tense with the prospect of what was to come.

Catra jumps from her perch and lands softly, back arched in a crouch before she rises to her full height. Adora stands a good twenty feet away but her legs still feel weak at the mere sight of the brunette. Catra lets one arm drop idly at her side while the other rests on her hip. Her eyes shift to glance at the wreckage Adora previously created. “Seems you haven’t learned much since the last time I saw you,” she says casually. She sends a look back at Adora, one that is morbidly unreadable. “How unfortunate.”

And just like that, Catra is rushing towards Adora, claws digging into the hard earth as she launches herself forward. Adora is rigid, feet rooted to the spot, as she watches her old friend come at her. She braces herself for impact when suddenly, Catra jumps. She does a complete flip over the blonde, body twisting in midair so that, when she’s at the peak of her acrobatic, she’s face to face with Adora, noses only inches apart.

The world seems to stop. Time slows. Adora wishes it would freeze altogether so that she could reach out a hand towards those magnificent cheekbones that she loved to kiss so long ago. But, sadly, Catra was gone as soon as she appeared, turning over and landing flat on the ground behind Adora. Her leg kicks out fiercely and catches on the crook at the back of Adora’s knee. The taller girl inhales sharply before letting her breath out in a pained gasp, her body slumping over slightly. Behind her, Catra giggles with malice lacing her voice.

“Ouch,” she purrs. “My bad, princess.”

Adora swiftly regains her posture in time to see Catra leap at her again. This time, however, she pulls her body backwards and away, barely missing Catra. Her claws still manage to snag on a piece of her white clothing, creating a small tear in the fabric. Catra lands with a skilled roll before crouching low to the ground once more. Her gold and blue eyes glare daggers into Adora as she raises them again, lunging towards the mighty warrior with ferocity, her claws striking the protective armor around She-ra’s forearms.

Adora, with a surprising amount of effort, pushes Catra off, her chest heaving not with the exhilaration of battle but with the pain of having to fight with her friend, her best friend, her _soulmate_ once again.

But Catra is ruthless, and the brunette rears up again to pounce. She lands on She-ra’s back, claws sinking into old wounds that have long since been healed-mere thin scars leaving behind any trace of them-and rolls the both of them over with a cry. Adora lands on her hands and knees, glowing sword landing heavily in the dirt a few feet away from her, while Catra jumps away, cat like features latching onto the workings of a nearby rock wall.

As Adora tries to steady her breathing, above her, Catra cackles. “ _Really_ , Adora. You ought to step up your game.” As she speaks, she shoots off of the wall, lands on the ground to scoop up She-ra’s misplaced sword, jumps away again to a far corner of the dwelling, towering above the blonde again. Her eyes flash with something dangerous yet something familiar, and Adora feels her heart seize for what feels like the hundredth time already. “I expected more from a _princess._ ”

Her face suddenly turns into a hard scowl as she advances on Adora, wielding the ancient tech above her head. Launching off from the wall with a yowl, she aims the blade at She-ra. The blonde, with wide, scared eyes, rolls out of the way, feeling the earth around her tremble as Catra makes contact with the ground. She throws a glance over an armored shoulder to see the sword sunk deep into the dirt. Catra is hunched over beside it, her claws gripping onto it viciously, her breathing irregular. Her head suddenly lifts, her eyes daring to meet Adora’s from beneath her mass of brunette hair. There’s another gleam to them, one that Adora knows all too well, one she never thought would be aimed at her. Not like this.

Catra springs from the ground in a flurry of fur and claws and tugs at the sword only to find it stuck, planted deep in the hard earth below them. She gives it a hard pull with a grimace, tail lashing behind her, the telltale signs of panic lacing her face for the first time that night. Adora doesn’t miss the chance and rises to her feet as well. In one swift motion, the warrior takes a few strides to her enemy and bashes into her, knocking her grip off of the weapon and causing her to fall to the ground several feet away. Adora hears Catra utter a growl of annoyance as she slowly pushes herself to her hands and knees again but Adora is already there, her hands tightening around the hilt of the sword. With a sharp tug, it breaks out of the maroon colored dirt with a satisfying shing. As she turns, eyes blazing with fear, Catra runs towards her. Thinking quickly, Adora feels her sword meld into a glittering shield, wrenching her eyes shut as she raises it in front of her body. Catra slams into the golden armor with a growl, claws making high pitched scratching noises against its surface.

Suddenly, Adora lifts her head. A big mistake.

Catra’s nose—and lips—are barely an inch away from her own. The brunette’s eyes dare to flicker down to Adora’s slightly parted, flush lips before managing a smirk. She leaps into the air, twisting her agile body around, and kicks her back legs out at the shield. Adora is forced back with nothing short of a yelp yet somehow manages to steady herself without falling. The feline strikes swiftly once again. Her razor sharp claws sink into the unprotected flesh on the blonde’s forearm before slinking away again, hearing Adora’s pained cry echo behind her with a sense a satisfaction—one that covers a faint twinge of sadness.

“Damn, those princesses really made you soft, didn’t they?” Her voice is like wine, intoxicatingly lethal, can make you drunk off just one taste, can ruin you if you let it. 

Adora throws her a glare, laced with pain and heartache.

Catra feels pretty good, she decides. Through the entirety of their fight, Adora hadn’t even managed to get a scratch on her yet. Even as She-ra, she’s still—

It’s then that Catra freezes, falters. Her eyes harden.

No. No, it wasn’t that Adora hadn’t landed a hit on her, it…

Adora hadn’t even tried.

Yes, she’s been dodging and taking every blow without attempting to give Catra a few scars in return.

Catra growls to herself.

_Not like this._

“What’s the matter, Adora?” she calls to the trembling young woman. “Too scared you’re gonna hurt me? Why don’t you get over yourself and fight?”

With a yowl, she leaps again, her attacks more fierce and emotionally driven that before. Adora blocks them with all her might. And just as Catra expected, She-ra never even attempts to hit back.

Not once.

“C’mon! Fight!”

A lethal blow to her cheek causes Adora to cry out and stumble away. She stares up at Catra with a new fear on her features. “Don’t you dare hold back from me, not now!”

A kick to her shoulder.

Adora heaves, her chest rattles. Suddenly, she mutters a response, low and nearly inaudible.

“No.”

Catra feels a surge of anger bubble in her chest. “What did you say?”

“No,” Adora repeats. Opening her mouth to speak again, her lips are forced close by another painful kick to her shoulder, knocking her over completely.

“Get up!” she screams, fists trembling at her sides.

_It wasn’t supposed to happen like this._

Catra never wanted this.

“Fight like you mean it! Like She-ra would!”

Adora, coughing on her hands and knees, peers up at her soulmate, and mutters a few words under her breath.

Catra, fed up, charges toward her, claws extended to rip into flesh. They clash with Adora’s sword, creating a metallic clang that echoes throughout the cave.

“Fight me, Adora! I know you’re stronger than this. Why are you holding—”

“No.” Adora’s eyes stare deep into Catra’s as she exhales a phrase of complete sincerity.

“I won’t hurt you. Not anymore.”

Catra pauses, for just a moment, and Adora utilizes the second of hesitation to shove Catra away and retreat to another end of the cave. Catra crawls to her hands and knees and notices how harshly she’s shaking, how loud her heartbeat is inside her ears. Her intact skin mocks her, tells her that even with her _one last chance_ , her _final moment of clarity_ , she’s still not good enough.

Shaking her head, she mumbles, “No.” Climbing to her feet, she repeats the word over and over again. Anger burning in her veins like lava, she runs at She-ra one more time. Screeching, she strikes again and again and again, over and over, landing hits on her soulmate, battering her down to the ground.

She’s desperate now.

This is her last chance.

One more chance to make a difference.

To prove herself.

She _won’t fail_ this time.

“No, no, _no_!” she cries, a hearty lash to Adora’s stomach causing her to topple over. “No, you won’t do this to me! Not again!”

Surging forward, pulling Adora to her feet, she lands more strikes continuously over the blonde’s body.

And still, Adora never hits back.

“I’ve tried so hard to prove myself. To Shadow Weaver, to the Horde, to you. And every time,” she forces Adora back with a kick to her chest, “it was never enough. Never!

“And still, you—you choose to belittle me, force me back into the cage you’ve built around me my entire life!” More blows. Adora’s strength withers with each hit. “I just wanted to be something. To anyone! To _you_ , Adora!”

“You were everything to me!”

“No, _no_! I _wasn’t_ , don’t you lie to me!”

They stand face to face now, Adora at one end, Catra at the other. With her golden, hideous shield before her, She-ra braces herself while Catra jumps, her claws merely clashing with mystic metal, but she doesn’t care.

_It wasn’t supposed to end like this._

“Once you left,” she hisses between breathes, “I tried so hard to become what you couldn’t. So that maybe, someone would see me as useful, so that I could matter. And again, nothing I ever did satisfied anyone. It was always ‘Adora this,’ ‘Adora that.’

“I was always your pet. Always. And you let it happen! You could’ve changed it, could’ve protected me more if that’s the bullshit you’re always so keen about!

“And still, I wanted you. Wanted you back so badly, not just so that Shadow Weaver would be off my back but so that I could have a best friend again!” She gives another thrashing kick, and Adora falls. With one swift motion and a desperate yell, Catra claws deep into the blonde’s shoulder, leaving three, mauled gashes on her skin.

“So I could have a soulmate again.”

She barely notices the tears falling from her eyes, staining her face, and stares down Adora.

_Not like this._

“I’m tired,” she admits. “I’m tired of the fighting, tired of all the pain. Most importantly, I’m tired of missing you.” With a growl, she kicks away Adora’s sword, watches it clatter against a boulder.

Adora, sucking air through her teeth, manages to stagger to her feet.

Catra’s body sags. She wills herself to breathe, to focus. She ignores the steamy tears on her face and straightens her posture. She knows.

She knows what she has to do.

She wills her eyes to soften, chest heaving, and stares at Adora sincerely. “Adora,” she says. “Please. Come back.”

Adora falters, hand still clutching her shoulder, and feels her heart burn inside her chest.

“Come _home_.”

Catra’s voice is like silk. Her words hold clarity and desire. She steadies herself and dares to take a step forward. “I—“ She swallows and clenches her hands into fists at her sides. “We need you.”

Another step forward. Adora feels unsafe yet wishes to fall into strong, dark arms, fall into her love again. Like they used to.

“I need you.” The brunette’s voice is low and raspy, barely audible to hide the way it cracks. No, not like this.

Catra has grown confident and begins to make a sturdy path towards Adora, slow step after step.

“I need you home again. I need your warmth again, please.” She can’t control the way her throat tightens, can’t fight the new tears that pool at the corners of her eyes. She channels her emotion, and the stare she’s aimed at Adora hardens. “We were good, Adora. We were so good together. How...how could you throw that away?”

Adora’s stature becomes more slack, her arms droop at her sides. Lips parted, she watches Catra come forward, watches the way she moves as if everything had slowed to a stop once more. The searing pain lacing her body couldn’t compare to the torture her heart, her lungs were going through at the sound of her words.

Catra was close now. So close she could reach out and touch her. Hold her. But she doesn’t.

Catra, however, does. A clawed hand, stained with blood, stretches outwards, latching on to her forearm with unnerving care. Adora flinches at the contact and her eyes close so that she can’t notice the small glint behind Catra’s back.

“We could’ve ruled the world _together_ , Adora.” Tight canines grind against each other. “But you, obviously, had different ideas.” Her body shakes and she grips harder onto Adora in attempt to steady herself. Another step forward. “I just—I—“ Another. “I just wanted...I just wanted a life with you.” Silent tears cascade down her face, over the smooth mound of her cheekbones, drips off of her trembling chin.

Adora has moved closer herself, trying to linger as close to Catra’s touch as she can. The feline wraps one arm delicately around She-ra’s waist, rests her hand gently on the small of her back.

“I want you back,” she whispers, her other hand slinking around to join the latter.

Pain throbs against her chest, fills the void between her ribs.

Her cheeks leans against Adora’s armored chest. She listens to the thud of her heartbeat. Such an old lullaby that used to sing her to sleep on the darker nights.

She swallows another cry.

This isn’t how it should be.

With force, she turns her head to look upwards at Adora, at blue eyes that speak of hope, remembering, nostalgia. Golden hair that floats behind her, that makes her blood boil. Blood stained cheeks and cracked lips.

“So please, Adora,” she says, smooth as ever.

Her hand shifts behind the blonde’s back.

“Come home.”

Adora gives her a look that just might break her.

“Because I really, really miss you.”

Adora cries out as the dagger sinks into her back.

With a grimace, Catra twists it to the left.

She-ra seems to glitch and melt away, leaving a fading Adora. Her hands fly upwards. She clutches tightly onto the back of Catra’s shirt, her head falls perfectly onto her shoulder.

“Catra,” she stutters, eyes wide with panic. “Catra, wait…”

They crumble to the ground in a tattered heap. Catra clenches her eyes shut, grasps onto her waist but holds the blade steady.

“Catra, C-Catra, no—”

Blood comes spurting out of her mouth, leaving horrid stains on the brunette’s shirt.

A hand laces in Adora’s hair.

“No, no...pl-please. Catra...Cat-Catra, no. _Don’t_ —” She coughs. Her fingers dig into the skin on Catra’s back.

“Don’t do this, please. Don’t—” A sob.

“Please, Catra.” Adora’s voice fades off. Her struggling begins to weaken.

Catra, holding back tears of her own, pushes the knife in further. Adora sobs, tensing her body.

“Catra, C-Catra, please…”

Her arms begin to fall off of her back.

“I love...I lo…”

Adora freezes. The words die on her tongue.

Catra bites her tongue hard enough to draw blood, and she tries not to think of the fluid coating her. The fluid that is not her own.

Slowly opening her eyes, she studies the blood seeping onto her hands. Sees the way it fills the gaps in her fingers. Sees the handle of the dagger buried in her soulmate’s back.

She cries, feeling the beginnings of dark, inky words behind mystically carved into her empty wrist. “It’s okay,” she whispers into blonde locks.

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this kinda got fucked sorry lol
> 
> if anyone was kind of lost with the plot at the end, basically catra was sent out on a mission to finish she-ra once and for all and it kinda backfires
> 
> aka, catra lets her feelings get in the way
> 
> and im aware that this ended pretty similar to 'into oblivion' oops
> 
> im also a day late for this prompt so fuck me! anyway hoped u guys enjoyed :)
> 
> and happy new year!


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